


Mementos of Maldra

by ReneeoftheStars



Series: Teyla Marin and Gida Tiatkin [8]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Death, Injury, concussion, death mention, electric torture in chapter 2, electrocution in chapter 2, torture in chapter 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-03-12 14:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13549635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: When their gunship is shot down in enemy territory, Padawan Gida Tiatkin attempts to assist troopers Riggs and Jolt back to the Repbulic base on Maldra. Injured, lost, and pursued by Separatist forces, the trio must figure out how to warn the rest of Chimera Company without revealing their location to the enemy. Meanwhile, after being captured by the Separatists, Jedi Knight Teyla Marin and Captain Mark must find a way to escape the enemy compound and complete their mission.





	1. Salvage What You Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padawan Gida Tiatkin regains consciousness to find herself in the wreckage of a gunship, deep in enemy territory. Dazed and injured, she struggles to rally the surviving troopers and organize a way out. The difficult situation becomes urgent, and Gida is forced to make a grim decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for tumblr blog finish-the-clone-wars writing Wednesday prompt: Trapped
> 
> (Summary credit due to admin of same blog)

With a groan, Gida’s eyes fluttered open. Thin strands of light filtered through cracks in the LAAT/i’s hull, cutting through the dimness just enough to see. She moved to stand, then cried out as a searing pain shot through her lekku. Taking in deep breaths of air, she paused and took stock of the situation.

She lay on her back on the floor – no, not the floor, on the left sliding door. _So the Lartie’s on its side_. Piece by piece, the memories came back to her. They had been on a recon assignment. They had recently established a base on a mid-rim world, when they heard rumors from the locals claiming that a new Separatist outpost had been built not too far away. Master Teyla had decided to take four troopers along to investigate. They hadn’t even gotten to the supposed structure before they’d been attacked by vulture droids. Caught off-guard, the clone pilot had done what he could to out-maneuver them, but by the time they were out of range, the Lartie had taken too much damage, and they’d crashed to the ground.

 _How long have we been here?_ Gida felt a pang of fear. The Separatists would be tracking them, combing the surface for their ship. _We have to get out of here._

“Master?” Gida croaked. Her voice sounded so small in the closed space. Blinking back tears of pain as she raised her head, Gida managed to lurch unsteadily to her feet. Immediately to her left was Jolt, sprawled over a supply crate. Biting back the panic that was rising in her throat, she reached out, prodding for the living Force, wincing at the effort.

In the Lartie’s hanger with her were Jolt and Riggs, both unmoving, but alive. The pilot was dead. Gida bit her lip; she hadn’t learned his name. Faintly, she sensed her master and Captain Mark in the cockpit. _Right…_ The memory flashed across her vision: The front of the ship had been critically hit and the controls had exploded, killing the pilot instantly. Teyla and Mark had rushed forward to regain control of the ship.

Staggering over to Jolt, she fell to her knees and shook his shoulder, calling his name. He came to with a sudden gasp, muscles spasming. One of his flailing arms smacked her lekku, and she shrieked in agony; it felt like white hot electricity was running straight into her skull.

“C – Commander, are you alright? What happened?” He ripped off his helmet, his spiked blond hair disheveled, a wild look in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Gida whimpered, cradling her lekku as best she could.

The trooper stared up at her, his eyes widening. “That…looks bad, sir. It looks sorta – broken, by the top of your head. Is that possible?”

“It’s not – really broken,” she managed. “Lekku are mostly cartilage, but the membranes run directly into our brainstems. Too much damage…” she broke off, wincing.

“We gotta get you outta here.”

“We _all_ have to get out of here,” Gida said firmly. Taking his arm, helped pull him to his feet –

“KRIFF!” he spat, stumbling out of her grasp. She jumped back, wide-eyed. Jolt gritted his teeth and straightened as best he could. He offered a grim smile. “Sorry, Commander. Apparently I’m more dinged up than I thought.”

It was then Gida noticed the blood staining his left leg. “You’re hurt,” she said slowly.

“Nah, just a scrape. I can still walk. Mostly.”

A feeling of dread began creeping into her thoughts, swirling together with the pain.

“See if you can poke your head outside and check the surrounding area,” Gida said, picking her way towards the other trooper, who was crumpled in the corner. She knelt beside him and shook him. “Riggs. Riggs, get up.”

Muttering incoherently, he stirred, hands grasping for his helmet. He blinked up at her, seeming to take a moment to focus. “Commander Tiatkin. What happened?”

“We got shot down. Are you hurt?”

He rolled his head, flexing his fingers and shrugging his shoulders. “I think I’m alright. Give me a moment to make sure.”

Gida nodded, instantly regretting the motion as the searing pain returned.

“We got a problem,” Jolt called. He punched the door above him in frustration. “It’s jammed.”

“Can you blow it open?”

“In a heartbeat. But we’d get fried too.”

“Okay.” Gida stood. “Let me try to –” The world spun.

Somehow, she found herself being held up by Riggs. “Commander?” Worry colored his voice. She blinked up at his scarred face.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” Jolt had limped up beside them. “Her lekku’s hurt,” he explained to his brother. “Might have some sort of brain damage ‘cuz of it.”

“I’m not brain damaged,” she snapped. Irritably, Gida pulled away from Riggs and steadied herself. “Find a way to get that door open,” she ordered. Ignoring the wary glances of her men, she gingerly walked toward the cockpit.

She froze. The whole front of the ship had been warped in on itself, exposing shreds of metal and sparking wires. Slabs of machinery was scattered all around. Immediately at her feet lay the body of the pilot. She squinted at some paint on the back of his armor. _CT-8524_. She would have to ask the others what his name was. She stepped over him, ducking through the sideways door, taking care not to bump against anything.

Mark was in the pilot’s seat above her, limbs entangled in the harness in such a way that he dangled halfway out of the chair. His eyes were shut, his expression serene; Gida couldn’t remember ever seeing him without some measure of a scowl on his face. Gida couldn’t quite reach him. There was no sign of her Master.

Her gaze was drawn to pile of loose supplies piled on the ground, along with a broken section of the control panel. Trying to release her anxiety, she knelt down and shifted what she could. She moved a splintered hunk of metal and found a blue hand, fingers curled inward. Frantically, Gida hauled off another slab of ship – wincing as a sharp edge cut her palm – and threw herself on her stomach to peer through the gap she’d made. Her eyes squeezed shut in pain at the sudden movement, counted to three before forcing herself to focus.

Teyla Marin lay in a heap, her exposed arm twisted at an awkward ankle. Gida could just see the Pantoran’s scraped face; eyes closed, expression slack. She barely seemed to be breathing.

“Master!” Gida placed her hand over the woman’s and squeezed. “Teyla! Wake up.”

The Jedi did not stir. Gathering the Force to her, Gida directed what energy she could into her Master, calling her name through their bond.

But still there was no movement.

 _That should have worked_. Lekku aching, she pushed herself back up to her feet. She tried to wake Mark the same way, but he did not respond. _Why isn’t it working?_ she wondered desperately. _Am I not doing it right? Or are they just beyond my reach?_ The thought sent a new wave of panic through her; she gathered it, recognized it, then cast it away.

A snapping, groaning noise filled the gunship; the noise of a lightsaber cutting through metal. She whirled around, reaching for her own saber – her heart jumped into her throat as she realized it wasn’t on her belt.

If Riggs and Jolt were hurt… _but I haven’t sensed them._ The thought gave her pause. She could always feel the emotions and thoughts of those she was close to. But now, even trying, she couldn’t detect them a few dozen feet away. The quiet in her own head was daunting. She felt nauseous. Holding the side of the ship for support, Gida hurried into the hanger.

Her green-bladed lightsaber was clutched in Jolt’s hands, carving through the top of the ship. She stood dumbfounded for a few beats before lurching forward. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Jolt looked around at her, the green light emanating from the blade casting a crazed gleam in his eyes. “Only way to get out, Commander.”

“Why did you take it from me?” Gida demanded.

Riggs stared at her. “You dropped it, sir.”

“What?”

“We found it back here. And it would’ve taken Jolt too long to splice something together that wouldn’t kill us, so it made sense for us to use it.”

Gida watched in confused silence as Jolt continued to cut through the hull. _Dropped it? I could never drop it. That lightsaber is my life._ It was one of the first things she had been taught as a youngling. How had she not noticed?

The munitions expert finished cutting the hole and shouldered the separated metal outwards. It fell away with a scrape of metal-on-metal, and the sudden sunlight hurt her eyes. Jolt deactivated the lightsaber and handed it to her. She snatched it back, cradling it to her chest. _I can’t lose it again. I can’t be so careless._

“Wish Scout was here,” Riggs grumbled, priming his blaster and slipping out the hole into the light.

His brother watched him go, then turned to Gida. “The General? The Captain?”

“Alive. But I can’t wake them. Some of the console fell in on Master Teyla…it’ll take me some time to move it. And Mark’s stuck in the pilot’s chair.

“Let’s get to it, then.” Concern crossed his face and he reached out an arm. “You’re swaying.”

Gida opened her mouth to retort, then closed it, realizing he was right. “I’ll be fine. Just dizzy.” Brushing off his hand, she returned to what remained of the cockpit, Jolt limping after her.

As they reached for the door over CT-8524’s body, Gida paused. “What was his name?”

Jolt paused, as though trying to remember. “He was from another unit. I think he called himself Don.” Then he looked away and climbed into the control area, grimacing as he went, Gida close behind him.

The trooper reached up to grab his Captain, but he wasn’t tall enough to actually lift him down. “Can you get him?”

In answer, Gida closed her eyes and raised her hands. She called on the Force, directed it wrap around Mark. She started to lift him, concentrating with all her might –

“GAAAAHHHHH!”

Pain blinded her and she lost all focus. She curled in on herself, collapsing as her hands flew to her head, resting on the injured lekku. Tears streamed from her eyes and she found herself rocking back and forth.

Suddenly Jolt was there, hand gripping her shoulder. “Sir!”

“I’m fine,” she sobbed.

“Enough of that, Commander.” His voice was uncharacteristically firm. “You’re not strong enough to use the Force right now.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It requires focus, right? Concentration? Brain power that you don’t have to spare.”

“We’ve got a problem!” Riggs ducked through the door, his stance tense. “Clankers, closing fast on our position.”

Panic consumed her. “What? No, no, we have to get them out!” Gida shrieked, trying to focus on getting Mark again – and once more howling in pain.

“Commander –”

Frantic, she lunged for the rubble that pinned her master, trying to haul it away.

“There’s no time!”

“We can’t just leave them!” she cried.

“We won’t be able to help them if we get captured, too.” Riggs strode forward and caught her arm. “We need to get back to camp, organize. Get a message to the Republic for support.”

“The Seppies’ll keep ’em alive,” Jolt agreed. “They always have orders to capture if possible.”

Gida couldn’t look at them.

“Commander,” Riggs prompted, his voice suddenly calm, “we need you back at camp.”

 _They’re right,_ she realized in despair. With Teyla unable to command, the well-being of the troops fell to Gida. She couldn’t condemn Jolt and Riggs to capture or death, no matter what the reason. She couldn’t let the troops at the new base fall under a surprise attack. With every ounce of her willpower, she contained her fear and let it go; some shadow of it remained, but for now it was enough. She grasped her Master’s hand and squeezed once more. _I’m sorry, Teyla. I’ll find you._ Head and heart aching, she nodded.

They hurried out of the gunship as fast as they could, Jolt leaning on Riggs for support. They grabbed a supply bag each; Jolt made sure his demolitions kit was intact. Gida stumbled ahead of them, climbing through the carved opening and squeezing her eyes shut at the harsh light. The intensity of the light confused her; the planet’s two suns made the day bright, yes, but she didn’t remember it being quite this painful. Squinting through the glare, she found that they had crashed in a thick grove of trees; blue and violet trunks with massive orange leaves loomed over them. Between the leaves of azure bushes and tangles of indigo vines, Gida spotted the gleam of metal. Her stomach dropped as she heard the now-familiar _clump, clump, clump_ of marching droids.

A hand touched her shoulder and she started, fighting not to yell in pain as the fingers brushed her lekku. The clones had donned their helmets again. Riggs gestured urgently to a particularly dense patch of bushes to the north. Bracing herself against trees as she went, Gida followed unsteadily as they plunged through the forest.

Behind them, Gida heard the sound of droids swarming over the ship. She couldn’t look back; she could barely keep the brothers in view. She felt – with a certainty in her core that could only have come from the Force – that Mark and Teyla would survive the day. The knowledge comforted her. _I just hope we're as lucky._


	2. Unanswered Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teyla Marin awakens from the Lartie crash to discover she has been captured by Separatist droids. Tortured for information about Republic movements in the area, she fights to withhold the knowledge they seek. But when she encounters a figure from her past, her ability to resist may not be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in part for tumblr page finish-the-clone-wars' writing Wednesday prompt: Interrogation

_Pain._

Teyla let it wash over her as best she could, but couldn’t stop herself from recoiling as another bolt of electricity coursed through her.

The droid’s vocalizations sounded in her head as soon as the pain began to subside. “What are the coordinates for the Republic base here on Maldra? How many soldiers are stationed there?”

Teyla didn’t answer.

As far as she could tell, she was in a makeshift building of some sort, the beginnings of a fortified defense. She was held in the center of a small grey room, suspended in a containment field, heavy cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Her arms were wrenched above her head, jostling her broken arm every time she moved; the nausea was almost as bad as the pain.

Before her stood a T-series tactical droid, its finger joints poised over the controls of the containment field. Its photo-receptors remained trained on her.

“Where is the Republic base located?” the droid asked again.

 Gritting her teeth, Teyla tried to steel herself against the impending shocks.

It didn’t make any difference.

 “One hundred percent of prisoners answer my questions,” the droid intoned after it finally shut off the shocks again. “You will not change that statistic.”

Gasping, she bit back the impulse to retort; sarcastic comments would earn her nothing but pain. The mere thought made her flinch. _I have to get out._ Reigning in her emotions, Teyla reached out with the Force – but the pulses from the field disrupted her. Faintly, she could sense Captain Mark somewhere nearby, but couldn’t tell where; she knew her Padawan was still on-planet – and fortunately nowhere near this place – but couldn’t reach out to her. Teyla tried to throw the tactical droid across the room, but only succeeded in making it take a step backwards, which earned her yet another bout of jolts.

“What fortifications have been made to the base? What resistance will we encounter?”

Teyla shut her eyes and tried to let go of her fear. She did not know if she could bear the pain… but she couldn’t betray her men. Their lives depended on her. She and Mark had chosen the location of the camp specifically because the faint electromagnetic pulses given off by an ore deposit in the soil shielded them from orbital scanners. Even if the Separatists combed the forests, it would take the better part of a week for them to stumble across it.

She could not allow Chimera Company to come under attack. She wouldn’t let the Separatists slaughter her men.

“Where is the base?”

Teyla shook her head.

The bolts shot through her again and again. She jerked against the restraints, unable to stop herself from crying out. This time, the droid didn’t stop the currents until black spots started blotting out Teyla’s vision. Teyla felt herself beginning to slip into unconsciousness –

The blasted droid was right in front of her, holding a syringe and injecting something into her, but Teyla couldn’t even focus enough to push it away. Almost immediately, she felt fully awake; exhausted and aching, but unlikely to black out.

“You have not yet answered my questions,” the droid informed her as it returned to the controls. “What are the coordinates for the Republic base?

 _Maybe Gida has made it back,_ Teyla thought dazedly. _She’ll be able to send for reinforcements. She’ll be able to come free me –_

Teyla shut down the idea, sickened by the very thought. Her Padawan needed to stay far, far from this place. Teyla would gladly die here and now if it meant Gida never came near the Separatists. Unbidden, an image rose in her mind of her dear Padawan being tortured; her stomach roiled.

As the droid raised its limbs to the controls, Teyla tried again to distance herself from the present. She had learned the trick years ago, learned how to remove herself mentally, to be aloof to the happenings of her body. But she had no time to prepare, was too full of thoughts and fears to successfully separate now. Teyla cursed herself; she’d always focused more on connecting with everything, not shutting everything completely out.

 “Where is the Republic base?”

“How many soldiers are stationed there?”

“When are reinforcements next due?”

“What is the function of the base?”

“What are the movements of the nearby Republic fleet?”

Again and again the currents crackled through her, and again and again Teyla bit back the answers that rose on her tongue. _I will not kill my men. They will not die because of my weakness._ It felt as though her heart was going to explode. Breathing became difficult. Desperately, she blurted out a random set of coordinates, ones that she had examined back when first planning the mission, but had dismissed due to terrain. The tactical droid paused, looked down at the control panel, then redirected its vision to her.

“According to your vital readings, that is a fabrication.”

On and on it went. She lost track of time. After a while, during one of the breaks in between currents, Teyla managed to withdraw from herself somewhat. It wasn’t much, but it felt like she had managed to catch onto a rock in the middle of turbulent rapids. _Let it be done. Just let it be done._

It stopped. Muscles spasming and breath ragged, Teyla kept her eyes shut tight, readying herself for the next onslaught. But instead, a door hissed open and boots clacked against the hard floor. The footsteps stopped, and there was silence. Then a deep, formal voice cut through the quiet. “Has she revealed anything?”

Teyla’s eyes flew wide and she flinched. Far older than the last time she’d seen him, eyes dark and cold, stood Count Dooku, in the flesh.

“No, my lord. But it is only a matter of time. She has already attempted to provide false information.”

Teyla barely heard it. She couldn’t seem to look away from the fallen Jedi. She had seen holorecordings of Dooku since the war began. But to have him not ten paces away after all these years…

 _How did I not sense him?_ His presence in the Force was imposing, powerful. But even now it felt muted. _It must be the field._ He stared up at her, his expression grim.

“Traitor.”

She didn’t mean to say it, didn’t intend to whisper the accusation. But she said it, and Teyla knew by the way Dooku raised his chin that he heard her.

“Yes, I know that is what you believe me to be.” He idly stepped forward. Dooku considered her, and she was reminded of the appraising way he used to watch her when she was a Padawan. “It would appear you’ve become as capable a Jedi Knight as Sifo-Dyas hoped you would, Teyla. Though I have to wonder at what cost.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Teyla’s voice felt hoarse.

“I don’t believe that is true. I imagine there are many things you wish to say, but you lack the courage to do so.”

She felt a flash of anger. “You turned your back on the Order, on the Republic. _You_ began this war. Thousands are dead because of _you_.”

“And yet none would have died if the Senate had allowed the Confederacy of Independent Systems to cede peacefully.” Dooku began to slowly pace.

“You already had your army waiting for orders.”

“And the Republic had theirs. How fortuitous for both sides.” He moved behind her, and it took all of Teyla’s focus to not twist around to keep him in view. “Your old master foresaw this conflict. He knew that an army would be required. And the Jedi Council reprimanded him for it. Still, he was wise enough to prepare against their wishes.”

“You have no right to talk about him.”

“He was once my closest friend.” Dooku paused, then said softly, “I regret the end he met.” He resumed pacing. “Sifo-Dyas was unyieldingly loyal to the idea of the Republic, but he recognized the festering greed that had taken root even then. He taught you to see it as well.”

Teyla refused to meet Dooku’s eyes. Yes, her master had instructed her to see the inner workings of the Senate for what they were. The knowledge had rattled her. But…

“He never would have agreed to your methods.” The words came unbidden, and the Count seemed as surprised as she did.

“No,” he mused, “perhaps not. But we will never know.” Dooku came to a stop before her. “But _you_ agree with some of them.”

Air hissed between her teeth. “You’re being absurd.”

“Do you remember what you said to me before I left the Order? When Sifo-Dyas and yourself uncovered the plot to assassinate Senator Palpatine during elections for the Chancellorship?”

She didn’t answer.

“You said that once a government actively tried to prevent action that would benefit the most people, it deserved to be destroyed and rebuilt from the ground up.”

“I was young and ignorant,” Teyla protested, the memory crawling uncomfortably in her mind. “And both you and Sifo-Dyas chided me for it.”

“We discussed it afterwards, and found there was truth in your words.” Dooku clasped his hands behind his back. “A version of that mentality exists at the heart of the Separatists’ movement. The Confederacy of Independent Systems wishes to overcome the ineffectiveness of the Republic Senate.”

Teyla shook her head. “Not like this.”

Dooku nodded, seemingly to himself. “In time, you will understand. But for the moment, I am more interested in your presence here on Maldra.”

Dread settling in her stomach, Teyla shied away. She tried to clear her mind. _If he senses a response to anything, he will use it to his advantage._ The Count had always been adept at detecting changes in behavior. But fear hovered at the edges of her thoughts, and she felt ashamed for it.  

“Where is young Tiatkin?”

The question caught her off guard, and she started in surprise, wrenching her broken arm. Immediately, she cursed herself, nausea flooding her again.

The human man’s eyebrows raised in amusement. “Did you think I would not know that you had taken on an apprentice? Even if I hadn’t, there was a hole large enough to escape through cut in your crashed ship, made by a lightsaber.”

 _They haven’t found her._ Relief coursed through her, but was followed by worry. _But what about the troopers? Jolt, Riggs, Don? And what’s happened to Mark?_ Of course, Dooku wouldn’t think they were worth mentioning.

“You seem optimistic about her chances of avoiding my droid patrols. I assure you, she won’t get far.” He paused. “It would be best for you to answer my questions.”

She met his eyes. “I will not help you kill my own troopers.”

“Your own troopers will kill you soon enough,” Dooku said, his voice holding a note of irony.

Teyla’s gut twisted. “The clones are good men. They would never betray me. Nor I them.”

“I’m sure that’s what you believe. Now, if you refuse to cooperate…” He nodded to the tactical droid, who fiddled with the control panel. Teyla’s skin was suddenly full of pins and needles as low currents of electricity were sent through her; not enough to hurt, but sharp enough to set her on edge.

Dooku’s voice changed. Gone was the sympathetic Jedi he had tried to replicate. Instead his voice was rigid and forceful. “Why has the Republic sent you to this world? Practically to the edge of known space? What could possibly be so important that they would discard you to this backwater world?”

Shivering, Teyla kept her face carefully blank.

Dooku continued, “Perhaps they are establishing a foothold in this region of space, hoping to use it as a staging ground for Lothal and other nearby systems. This seems to be the Republic’s newest tactic in terms of securing Outer Rim territories. Or it could be that you are not a skilled enough Jedi to participate in the war effort in any true sense.”

She did not rise to the bait, and maintained her neutral expression. It was not a matter of her abilities; she merely knew her limits. And she refused to allow her young Padawan on the front lines.

“Then again, perhaps the Republic found something here. Something that would aid them in the war effort.”

_Give him nothing. There is no emotion, there is peace…_

“Why are you here, Teyla? What do you hope to accomplish?”

She could feel Dooku in the Force. He used to radiate poise and calm; all she could sense of him now was power and anger. His mind reached out, trying to slip through her defenses, prodding her to reveal their mission, to give up the coordinates for the base. She felt as though the layers of her mind were being peeled back and twisted, wrung out for the knowledge he sought. The currents increased slightly, and her concentration began to slip. _I…I need to tell him the location… we’re here_ _–_ _No._ With every ounce of her control, she cast him away from her, breaking his hold on her mind.

Teyla squeezed her eyes shut as she recollected herself as best she could.

“Impressive.”

Wincing, she opened her eyes and found Dooku gazing up at her. Anger warped his face into something unnatural and dark. He raised his hands, and blue energy crackled from his fingertips.

She cried out as the bolts of lightning tore through her, over and over, until she was screaming and writhing and desperate to make it stop, make it _stop_ , _make it stop, the coordinates are – NO, make it stop_ –

And suddenly the pain was gone. She hung limp, her body shaking with aftershocks, her broken arm feeling like it was aflame.

“I believe,” Dooku said, his voice like ice as he turned towards the droid, “that we will have more success if we are to capture the apprentice. Have the search teams redouble their efforts to find the escaped Padawan. Bring her directly to me. I will interrogate her myself.”

Rage bloomed inside Teyla’s chest. It electrified every nerve ending, boiled in her blood, threw everything into sharp relief. The Force sang through her veins, and she imagined her hands closing around Dooku’s neck. The fallen Jedi was jerked into the air, hanging there as his hands clawed at his bare throat. His bulging eyes reflected surprise as they met Teyla’s furious gaze.

“If you go near my Padawan,” Teyla hissed, “I will kill you as slowly as I can.”

She wouldn’t have let him go. She would have squeezed the life from him to protect Gida. But that blasted droid took the controls and cranked up the currents of electricity coursing through her, disrupting her concentration.  Unwillingly, she relinquished her grip and Dooku fell to the ground, coughing and clutching his neck. As the realization of what she’d almost done dawned on her, darkness overcame her, and she gratefully embraced it.


	3. Course of Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon realizing that their commanding officers are missing in action, the four lieutenants of Chimera Company debate the best way to proceed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by tumblr blog finish-the-clone-wars' writing prompt: No one at the helm.

Lode drained the last of his canteen and stretched out on an empty cot, allowing himself a sigh of satisfaction. The medcenter was finally complete. The supplies had been arranged at his instruction, emergency bacta had been properly stored, and the building now had a working door. _Took long enough._ The men had been more interested in setting up the barracks and the mess. Not that he could really blame them, but he had his own priorities.

Since he hadn’t insisted that his equipment be ferried down from _Zenith of the Republic_ in orbit, the transports, artillery, and rations had been delivered planet-side first. At Lode’s demand, General Marin had already agreed that in the future, the medcenter supplies would get sent first. Trying to treat a venomous bite when all the antiserums were still stuck on the cruiser had almost cost a man his life.

The man in question sat propped up on his cot four down from Lode, poking petulantly at the wrappings around his calf. “C’mon, Lode, you don’t have to keep me here.”

“Until I’m convinced there’s no other side effects from that feathered viper, I’m not clearing you for duty, Lieutenant,” Lode replied.

Lieutenant Tech grumbled something, then went back to fidgeting.

Lode continued, mostly to himself, “I’ll have some of the boys ask the local tribe if they’ve got a creature index we could use.”

“What for?”

“Ought to know the wildlife, if we’re gonna be here for a while. If anyone in the galaxy’s going to know what critters to look out for, it’ll be them.”

Tech shrugged in agreement. Lode knew the other man didn’t think much of the local sentients, being as skittish and strange as they were, but the chief medic found them interesting.

Lode had just begun drifting off to sleep as the doors hissed open. His eyes snapped open and his pulse picked up, anticipating another wounded clone being rushed in…

Three men stepped in, un-panicked. Lode allowed himself to relax again, regarding them with mild interest. With their shoulders squared and faces drawn, the other lieutenants of Chimera Company looked grim.

“How you feeling, Tech?” Bookie asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Right as rain,” the other said. He jerked his thumb towards the medic. “But Lode seems to think I’ll keel over if I step out into camp.”

Lode didn’t bother rising; he didn’t get to rest like this too often. Instead, he raised his arm straight up and pointed. “Doctor’s orders. It’s a precaution.”

“We need him back at the command center,” insisted the man with buzzed hair and a scar across his nose, Cleese. “We have matters to discuss.”

Lode waved a hand. “Discuss it here. I’ve sent Stint to the barracks to give the men some boosters. No one else around.”

Hal side-eyed him, then nodded to the others. “We might as well. Lode’s not a gossip.” The Republic symbol on the side of his neck stood out stark black against his skin.

“Fine.” Cleese lounged against the wall next to Tech, tossing his helmet on a metal tray; it landed with a clang, scattering the medical tools lying there. Cleese ignored the glare Lode cast him. “Yesterday, we had some locals complaining that so many settlers were coming to their world.”

“We’re not exactly here to stay,” Tech pointed out.

“That’s what we told them,” Hal agreed. “But then they started talking about the ‘others’ in the north part of the continent.”

Tech frowned. “Others?”

“The clanleader said they showed up a few days ago and have been cutting through the forests. He called them metal-men.”

Lode’s hands clenched. Suddenly his moment of rest had become a lot more stressful.  

The bed-ridden clone cursed. “Droids? The Seppies are here?”

“That’s what we’re not sure of.” Bookie passed a hand through his purple-dyed hair. “The Jedi, the Captain, and a handful of men went to investigate.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” Hal’s foot tapped against the metal bedframe in agitation. “We haven’t heard anything from them since yesterday.”

“Well, try raising them on the comms!” Tech exclaimed, trying to get up.

Cleese pushed him back. “You think we haven’t tried? Lie back down,” he growled. “No, no one is answering.”

“Did they take a ship? Can we track it?”

“We’ve got nothing on it. Can’t locate the gunship at all.”

Tech stared up at them. “So…what are we doing?”

Bookie heaved himself onto a cot. “That’s what we’ve got to figure out.”

_Well who’s in charge?_ Lode almost asked. But then he paused and raised his head, looking over at the other clones. With the General, the Commander, and the Captain gone, command was split between the four lieutenants.

“I’ll take a ship,” Tech said quickly, starting to throw his legs over the side of the cot. “Me and a couple troopers will go on their last known trajectory and find them.”

“Lie down, damn it.” Cleese shoved Tech’s shoulder. “You take a ship out there, you could be walking into anything – a trap, a natural disaster, something hungry –”

“So we don’t try to find them?” Tech demanded.

Cleese shrugged. “They’re two Jedi and a Captain. And the other three that went with ‘em can hold their own. They’ll be able to survive whatever’s out there.”

“We should get a message to _Zenith_ ,” Bookie suggested. “They’ll still be lightyears away, but they may be able to speed up their supply run and get back here.”

“What would they be able to do?” Cleese asked. “The way General Marin explained it, even the cruiser’s scanners can’t get through the electromagnetic interference in some areas. Probably the reason we didn’t know there was anyone else here.”

Hal agreed. “And if we try to send out a message, there’s a chance it’ll be intercepted. And letting the clankers know our position and our lack of leadership doesn’t seem too bright.”

Bookie threw his hands into the air. “Fine! Then we’ll wait for the _Zenith_ to return with backup, and if the General and others haven’t made contact by then, we’ll organize search parties.”

“And in the meantime?” Hal asked, crossing his arms. “If we assume the worst – that the Seppies are here and our people were captured – we need to focus our resources and manpower. We should reinforce the camp and prepare for an attack.”

“But what if it’s not Seppies?” Tech shot back. “What if an electrical storm knocked them down, or there was some kind of ship malfunction? They’ll have crashed almost half a hemisphere away, with no way back, and we’ll be hunkered down here waiting for an attack that’ll never come.”

Lode stared up at the ceiling as he listened to the lieutenants argue, realizing why they had wanted to have this discussion in private.

With the efforts of Marin, Tiatkin, and Mark, their company had recently begun to operate as a cohesive unit. But it had taken time.

Chimera Company hadn’t existed at the outbreak of the war – it had been formed three months after the first battle of Geonosis with the remnants of more than a dozen platoons and companies. A lot of clones had died in those first few months. A combination of surprise attacks, miscommunication, and Jedi generals unused to accounting for so many moving parts had proved to be devastating. Lode’s own original platoon had been ambushed on a jungle world in the Mid-Rim. He and Stint had been the only ones to escape. The memory made his chest hollow.

On Kamino, it had been drilled into the clones’ heads that group unity was vital. And for all the Kaminoians lauded the clones’ ability to think for themselves, Lode thought they had underestimated what would happen when their creations went away to war. Every sergeant, lieutenant, and captain had their own way of carrying out missions, and the men under them had gotten used to their particular style. But needing to adapt to a new commanding officer’s tactics – all while surrounded by men who thought they out to be doing something different – had been incredibly difficult for a lot of troopers.

Still, with Mark’s steadfastness and the patience and determination of the Jedi, the various groups were bonding and adopting a new way of operating. But if they were to see their lieutenants bickering, it may make them doubt that the company was all on the same page.

When Lode roused himself from his thoughts, he found them still disagreeing.

“And what are we going to tell the men?” Bookie was saying. “They’ll be concerned that the General’s missing, and everyone will have their own ideas about what we should do.”

“We’ll fall apart,” Tech agreed.

Irritation flashed through Lode. “I don’t think you give the men enough credit,” he said suddenly.

The others clammed up and turned to face him. It occurred to Lode that they may have forgotten that he was even there. With a groan, he hoisted himself up and swung his legs over the cot, bracing his hands on his knees as he faced them. The lieutenants didn’t respond, so he continued.

“Sure, they’ll have their own ideas, but they respect you. They understand the chain of command, and they know that the four of you will come up with a plan. We’ve already been through a lot together – we’re not about to fall apart any time soon.”

Hal grunted. “That’s all well and good. But it doesn’t help us with deciding what to do here and now.”

Lode considered that. “If I could make a suggestion, sirs?”

Bookie sighed. “Might as well.”

“As the locals to help.”

Cleese’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“The locals, the Alel’ra. Like I said to Tech, they’ll know this place inside and out. Its creatures, its weather – its roads. We should ask them if they can either contact another tribe close to where we lost contact, or if they can send scouts with a few of our men. Hell, see if they’ve got something that lets them scan without disruption from the ore deposits.”

Hal’s jaw worked while he turned the thought over. Tech frowned, but he stayed silent.

It was Bookie who finally spoke. “That…that could work. _If_ they decide to help us.”

“We’ll _make_ them help us.” Cleese grated.

“No, we won’t,” Hal snapped. “If we land on someone else’s planet and start pushing them around, we’re no better than the Separatists. If they’re not willing to help us, we’ll figure out something else. Till then, we need to figure out who’s got the best rep with the Alel’ra.”

“Well, that would be the General and Commander,” Bookie mused. “But I think I know a few others who might work.”

“Let’s get to it, then,” Tech said cheerfully. He hopped down and made it to his feet before Cleese stood up and all but threw him back onto the cot.

Lode nodded in spite of Tech’s protests. “Six more standard hours of surveillance, sir. _Then_ you can go.”

Grumbling, Tech sank back as his peers said their goodbyes.

Lode settled down into the cot, closing his eyes as his head hit the pillow. “And while you’re at it, sirs,” he called just before they reached the door, “see if the Alel’ra can give you a creature index.”


End file.
